A Moment in Time
by nelliesbones
Summary: Forty minutes ago, he hadn't known the taste of her skin, hadn't known how beautiful she was in his arms... Just a little missing moment from "Hole in the Heart". Warm-hearted and spoilerfree.


_This is a little something in honor of Tracy's (aka some1tookmyname) 40th birthday. Because she's obviously awesome. Since I love her collection of missing moments, here's one moment for her. Check out the whole birthday fic collection: fanfiction dot net /s/9974431/1/The-One-With-The-Stories  
_

A Moment in Time

It was night in Washington DC, a warm night in spring. Someplace else it might be lunch-time or morning or autumn even, because the world turns, and just like there is never one single truth, there isn't one time, one day, one season.

Everything happens at once.

Children are born, men are dying and in between... in between there's a wide span of possibilities for everyone of us. A time to laugh, to cry, to grab life.

Time passes in moments.

Some moments vanish as silently as they've come, as ephemeral as a mayfly's flap.

Here. Flap. Forgotten.

Others leave something behind, shadows and sparks which linger in our soul. And a few ones, the rare ones, posses the power to change our perspective on life.

Just a moment. Forty minutes in time. And nothing could ever be the same again.

Forty minutes ago, she had been wearing his clothes. A gray sweater he had outgrown, courtesy of a laundry accident, and drawstring pants. She had been pale, so pale, oozing grief and despair. Something she couldn't understand had happened to her, had happened to one of their own, and his partner had never been good at not understanding things.

Forty minutes ago, they had been friends. It used to be so strong, their friendship, used to be more than everything. But that had been before she had broken his heart; before he had broken hers in return.

_The heart is a muscle. It cannot break, it can only get crushed..._

_Isn't it heart-crushing?_

Forty minutes ago, he had been asleep, safely caught in a dream world where nobody had died.

"I should go back."

Even though her voice was calm, he knew that she was anything but. He could feel it in the rigid line of her back. Her naked back.

"Why?"he asked, his palm cupping her head, her hair rasping like silk against his rough fingers.

5.27 am. The room was dark except for the numbers on his nightstand, but he could see the milky-white curve of her shoulder nonetheless. She was beautiful, so beautiful in his arms. A lump formed in his throat, and Booth blinked hard.

"Because I don't know what that means." It was a whisper, just a whisper, but honesty is seldom very loud.

Solace. Reassurance. The world. It meant the world to him... It could have been her, the person lying bleeding and dead on the floor. It could have been him as well.

"It means whatever you want. Look, Bones, it doesn't have to mean anything at all."

She lifted her head, searching his gaze in the semi-darkness.

"Liar."

His heart stopped, but only for a second, and his fingers tightened around her hair as her clear voice continued.

"There are people you can't just have sex with. Isn't that what you taught me?"

She shifted in his arms, and her cheek came to rest on his chest anew. Soft, her skin was so soft. His arms closed around her, holding her tight to his heart.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I," he swallowed hard. "I hadn't planned on this..."

"I know. You couldn't have foreseen me coming to your room."

His lips curved up on a will of their own because this was so her.

Forty minutes ago, he hadn't known the taste of her skin. Had neither known the little moans she could make nor the perfect fit of her body so utterly close to his. He hadn't known how warm she was and how absolutely right it felt to have her legs wrapped around his back.

How could he ever go back to not knowing?

Not knowing the weight of her breast in his hand, the softness of her stomach under his lips and the blue of her eyes when she came apart underneath him.

"Bones... I know that the timing sucks, but..."

She chuckled in his arms, but it was a tired sound bare of humor.

"We have a history of bad timing, Booth."

His lips fell to her forehead.

"I don't want to lose any more time. Let's catch Broadsky, let's bury the English squintern, let's be sad. But let's do it together. I... I just want to be together with you."

"In a romantic sense?"

"In every sense," he whispered, laying his heart on the table once more. "If you want."

"Yes. Yes."

Her third "yes" was swallowed by his lips, caught in a kiss that went a long way down to soothe the old pain. Pain inflicted by her, inflicted by him, inflicted by things that had just happened.

His thumbs caressed her cheeks, as he kissed her, brushing away a lonely tear, and she crawled on top of his body, surrendering herself to his love.

Outside, dawn was breaking, but for just a few more moments, they were putting the intruding day on hold.

Skin to skin, heart to heart. Sighs mingled with groans, and her legs parted for him anew, welcoming him in the age-old way a woman can welcome a man. Softness and strength. And in her, with her, he found everything that had been missing.

They would be okay. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. They would be together. Fight and laugh and make love.

For forty years.

And longer.

The end.

_I know, it's been a while... While I'm typing this, the sweet reason for my writing hiatus is wailing in his father's arms. _

_I hope you're all fine, ready to let go of 2013; ready to embrace 2014. Be safe and happy!_


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